Summer Song
by liarsandfakes
Summary: Fan fic featuring Fall Out Boy, every second chapter written by me and Ruth.
1. Chapter 1

**-Lyrics are not mine, this chapter is Ruth's work.**

Patrick groaned as he felt the metal from the locker he was just pushed into collide with his ribs. He slid down to the floor, grabbing his sides in pain. "Fucking fag." He heard James say as he stayed on the floor. James' foot was soon connected to Patrick's side in a matter of seconds and was gone soon to be back again. "Hey!" A voice echoed through the empty hallway making both the victim and the jock look up. Patrick was relieved to finally receive some help. "Look Fagtrick," James spat on him, "your boyfriend, Pete, is here."

Patrick's eyes were clenched in pain but he heard Pete's voice near. "First of all asshole, I'm not his boyfriend and second, watch who your calling a fag." Pete growled. "You're gay just like him." James said, not backing down. "So, at least I know I'm gay. You have been hanging around Patrick lately, touching him a lot too." Pete challenged. Patrick heard James groan in disgust and then his Nikes running down the hall. Pete knelt down to where Patrick was lying in pain. He brushed his best friend's strawberry blonde hair away from his pained face. "'Tricks? Come on, let's get you to the nurse." Patrick gave out a groan as Pete tried to stand him up. Limping on Pete's shoulder, Patrick asked "Why do they do this to me?" Pete chuckled at his question. "We're the kids who feel like dead ends. I guess they know that too and want to keep us like that. We're also gay and best friends. That's another reason."

Patrick smiled along with him and leaned on him with more to feel his warmth. He took a deep breath to summon up his courage. "Pete?" "Yeah?" "What would you do if one of your closest friend likes you?" Pete shrugged, moving Patrick's arm that was draped over his shoulders. "I don't have many friends that I consider close. Only you." He took another deep breath even though his ribs burned. "Exactly." Pete stopped in his tracks, Patrick having no other choice but to stop with him and the horrible awkward silence. Pete turned to face his best friend, whose gaze was on the floor. "Patrick?" He called quietly. Patrick looked up cautiously. "Do you like me?" He nodded slightly, fearing that a bigger nod could make things worse.

"Oh, 'Tricks." Pete said his face scrunched up apologetically. "You're adorable and the greatest person, but..." There it was. The 'but' Patrick had been waiting for. The one that made his heart shatter. "...but I only see us as just friends. " Patrick nodded trying to fight back the tears. "Are you okay?" Pete worried. "Yeah, I'm good. It was just a minor crush that's all." He started to limp down the hall to get to the nurse, mostly to get away from Pete. "Are you sure?" Pete asked, running to catch up to him. "Yes." "And the lies just won't stop slipping," Patrick thought as Pete helped him again. "At least we know where we stand," Pete offered, trying to make things better but making them even worse. "Uh-huh." I took a shot and didn't even come close at trust and love and hope. "I guess I'm just hopelessly hopeful." He muttered to himself as the reached the nurse's office.


	2. Chapter 2

**-Lyrics are not mine, this chapter is my work.**

The bell rang, indicating school was over. A soft tap on his shoulder made Patrick jump awake; and he lifted his head from the desk sleepily. "'Tricky," Pete said, a smile in his voice. A small snigger from the direction of James' desk hit Patrick's ears, and he flushed. Patrick took off his hat and ruffled his strawberry blonde locks, re-positioned his glasses and turned to face the slightly older male. His heart melted when the brown eyes hit his. "Peter," he said sternly. Pete looked taken aback by his tone of voice - "Patrick, c'mon man. Let's get outta here, wanna grab some food?" Patrick threw his head back and rolled his eyes. "Nope. Not hungry. Gonna head home, start my homework. Bye, Pete," Patrick said, grabbing his books, and throwing Pete's fingers off his shoulders. His eyes burnt, but he told himself to hold it in. He headed out of the room, and saw Pete's face fall in the glass panel of the door.

Patrick lay face down on his bed. He hadn't touched his homework. His parents' angry voices flooded the bottom floor, and snuck up the stairs into Patrick's tiny room. Alcohol. Sex. Money. The usual. He let out a groan as he moved, lifting up his green shirt to reveal the mark James had left on his side. "Fucking bastard," he muttered to himself, "you know I could crush you with my voice." Patrick took his cell out of his pocket and turned it on. 10 new messages from Pete. Fury built up the pit of his stomach; came to a stage where he couldn't take it anymore, and flung the phone across the room so it collided with the wall and snapped. "Fucking hell Wentz, I want to hate you half as much as I hate myself, you absolute CUNT! WHEN THE FUCK WILL YOU UNDERSTAND?!" he shouted, and was so shocked by the words that came out of his mouth, he placed a pale hand over his pink lips. His cheeks grew rouge with anger. Downstairs, his parents became totally silent, suprised by his outburst. He picked up the fragments of his cell and threw them in the bin. His parents would kill him for that one.

He kicked his bedroom door open; leaving a hefty dent, sprinted down the stairs and out the front door; only to collide with Pete; "Aww, heya 'Tricky," Pete grinned, "you were acting weird earlier so I thought I'd come over and see what's up?" Pete had genuine concern in his voice, and he lifted his hand to brush a lock of Patrick's hair off his cheek; it had stuck there with tears. "'Trick? What's wrong? Parents' arguing? C'mon, you can tell me, man," Pete said soothingly. Pete just didn't get it. Pete never got it. "Petey," Patrick finally breathed, grabbing the tanned fingers that lay on his face. Tears stung his eyes again. "I hate it when you cry, 'Trick," Pete whispered. "C-can we go to your place?" Patrick asked. "Okay?" Pete answered; half questioning. Pete walked to his car and hopped in, while Patrick turned back to face his house, and, as expected, his mother's beady eyes were peering out the window, seeing what her only son was up to. Since Patrick had hit puberty, and became friends with Pete "the little Hawaiian rich kid from down the road" Wentz, his parents had questioned their son's sexuality.  
What lovely parents.  
They weren't afraid to hide their thoughts either - Patrick was one of the main topics of their arguing. Patrick motioned to Pete's car and waved to his mother. She nodded.

Pete drove to his parents' home, and pulled up in the drive. This place always made Patrick happy. The Wentz's treated him like their own. "Are your parents home?" Patrick muttered, as he and Pete stayed still in their seats, belts still buckled. "Uh uh," Pete replied, "just you and me." Patrick swallowed hard at his words. "Let's head in," Patrick said quickly, before he turned any redder. Pete was really confused; Patrick saw it on his face. They continued into the house, and into the sitting room. Pete sat down on the leather couch, and tapped the vacant seat next to him. Patrick plopped down. "Now," Pete started, "tell me what's wrong."


	3. Chapter 3

**-Lyrics are not mine, this chapter is Ruth's work.**

Patrick bit down on his lip, his eyes wandering anywhere, trying hard not to land on Pete. He heard Pete sigh and the weight on the couch moved. "Patrick, come on, you're acting really distant from me now." Pete pleaded. Patrick's blue eyes reached Pete's brown inviting ones, glaring into them. "There's a reason for that." He muttered. Patrick stood up from the couch and stared down at his best friend. He wasn't even sure if he was his best friend anymore. Everything had gotten so freaking complicated. "Can we not talk about anything right now?" He asked, taking off his hat, fixing his hair and putting it on correctly out of nervousness.

"We're going to have to talk about it sooner or later. Tricks, why won't you just talk to me?" Patrick stared into Pete's eyes ad found them filled with concern and not with the mischief they were filled with most of the time. "Because everything is going wrong, that's why." Patrick could hear the tears in his voice and he was sure that Pete could hear it too. Pete stood and lightly grabbed him by the arms so he could stop pacing and face him. "Patrick, tell me. Is it your parents arguing? Are- are they hitting you?" Pete whispered the last question as Patrick sighed heavily. "No. They're too busy yelling and complaining about me to actually care about me. The thought of hitting me wouldn't cross their narrow minded heads." On top of feeling sorry for himself the hatred for his parents rose. He hated his life so much.

"Patrick, are you sure?" Pete pushed. "YES PETE!" Patrick snapped, his voice echoing around the wide room. Pete flinched at the sudden scream and he let go Patrick's arms. They spent a minute staring at each other, Patrick's chest heaving with anger, when the front door opened. "Hello Patrick." "Hi Mrs. Wentz." Patrick greeted the older woman as she walked through the sitting room. "Hey mom, we're going upstairs okay." Pete never took his gaze off of Patrick. "Mmkay Honey" She didn't look up from her papers to see Pete drag Patrick up the marble staircase and into his room. "What is your problem?" He asked closing his bedroom door. "You are! My stupid annoying arguing parents are! My whole life is a problem, don't you get?! I never had anything that was good in my life and when I thought something good was happening to me, I go and push it to fuck myself over!"

Patrick dropped down to Pete's, tears streaming down his rosy cheeks and the heavy sobs that he didn't dare let out was caught in his throat. Pete neared him, taking cautious steps toward his bed. Patrick stared at the floor, clutching Pete's blue bed sheets trying to steady his breathing. He felt a hand on his shoulder and he looked straight into Pete's eyes. Those brown pools made Patrick close his eyes and turn his head so he wouldn't have the urge to cry harder. "Why didn't you tell me before?"

Patrick's vision was blurred by his tears when Pete's voice reached his ears. "Perfect boys with perfect lives don't want to hear me sing about tragedy." He muttered his sobs at the tip of his tongue. He felt long fingers wrap around his wet chin and he was pulled to face the tan boy that could have been sculpted by God himself. "If you actually think I'm perfect then you are sadly mistaken." Patrick started to roll his eyes, turning his head in the process but Pete held a tight grip on his chin. "And I told you," Pete's thumbs brushed away the fresh tears that Patrick spilled. "I hate to see you cry." Tricks sniffled and the corners of his mouth slightly twitched upwards.

Pete's grin was wider the anything Patrick had seen it and that was pretty impossible. "Aw! Did I make Tricky smile?" Pete's contagious grin had caught on ad Patrick was sporting a smile of his own. "That's what I thought." Pete threw his arms around him, hugging him tight then pulling away when Patrick winced violently. Patrick grabbed his side lightly as Pete murmured something worriedly. "It's fine." Patrick lied. Pete lifted up Patrick's shirt and examined the big forming bruise. His fingers traveled around Patrick's skin and Patrick was trying hard to suppress the moan from the contact. "God, how pathetic am I?" He thought as he watched Pete think. "Just a simple touch makes me want him." Pete heavily sighed and muttered a string of curses. "Pete?" Pete was taken out of his concentration and saw Patrick staring at him. "Sorry, just thinking." He pulled his legs up to his chest and stared at Patrick before he remembered something.

"Oh, do you think you could sleepover on Friday?" He asked his brown eyes hopeful. Patrick nodded. "My parents made it clear that they want me out of their house, so they'll go for it. Just us two?" Pete shook his head and rested his chin on his knees. "No, I'm inviting other people. I'm inviting Andy, Joe, Ryan, and" He paused for a second, a huge grin taking up his face ad he started to twirl the corners of the blue bed spread with his now fidgety fingers. "Brendon." "Brendon?" Patrick repeated, seeing the grin on Pete's face grow wider. He nodded. "Hopefully. I've bee trying to invite him over for weeks. "Pete played with his bed sheets a Patrick tried to steady his heart. "You like Brendon?" he asked, his voice surprisingly steady. "Is it that obvious?"  
"Unfortunately."


	4. Chapter 4

**-Lyrics are not mine, this chapter is my work.**

Friday came. I packed a bag, and slung it over my shoulder. I left the house, without saying a word to my parents, and took off for Pete's house. I knocked on the door; and Pete came to greet me. "Hi!" he said; breathlessly, and Brendon quickly followed him. My heart sunk, but I grabbed my rucksack and pulled out a small bag. "I brought you some nuts- penis- I BROUGHT YOU SOME PEANUTS." I said, turning completely crimson. Pete burst into laughter and pulled me into a hug. "I love you, 'Tricky," Pete gushed. I returned his hug, pulling him tightly. "Aw, haha, hey," he chuckled.  
Brendon cleared his throat. "Oh, Brenny," Pete said, breaking our hug all too soon, and turned to our company. He pulled Brendon's chin up; and smirked playfully. My heart sunk deeper, and it felt like it landed in the pit of my stomach. Joe, Andy and Ryan appeared behind the older man; and the younger. They all waved cheerfully at me.

Everyone continued into the sitting room. I raced to sit down next to Pete on the cold leather. He grinned and left his head slump onto my shoulder. I smiled; victorious and smug. "I want to get stuck in your memories," I whispered. Joe and Andy sat with their backs against the sofa; and Joe flicked on the DVD player. "UGH, PETE!" everyone cried, when The Nightmare Before Christmas appeared on the screen. "Whaaaaat," he exclaimed, "it's a classic!"  
Andy snorted, "I brought Saw, will I put it on?" he grinned. Everyone murmured a yes. Brendon reappeared from the kitchen; laden with drinks and snacks. He sat down on Pete's right, and passed a me a bowl. "Your peanuts," -he winked- "'Trickster," he said teasingly. I threw an intimidating smile in his direction; and the smirk soon flew off his face. Inside I felt so bad, this guy was supposed to be one of my best friends! But Pete was secretly (not to me, obviously) smitten with him, so whatever I had to do, I would do.

Saw finished at three in the morning. Pete was snoozing peacefully on my shoulder. I nudged him awake after Brendon suggested a game of truth and dare. "That's just downright gay-" Joe started, looking at Pete and I; embarrassed. I grinned, and soothed him, "relax, Joe." Pete awoke, and rubbed his eyes. "S'morning?" he questioned. "No, Wentz," I chuckled, "it's three a.m dude." "Right; let's play!" Ryan said excitedly, his first remark of the night. "I'll go first," Brendon offered. "Patrick," he started. My heart skipped a beat, "truth or dare?" I responded with "uh, truth?" Brendon smiled evilly and immediately said; "do you like Pete?"

I choked on my peanuts slightly; and said incredulously, "no!" Pete jerked upwards; abashed by my stern answer. I could almost feel him recollecting last Friday in school. "I mean," I said quickly, "I'd shoot the sunshine into my veins for you dude," Pete's eyes lit up and he stared up at me; infatuated. "But we're just friends," I continued, "just friends." It broke my heart to repeat those words, they pulled me apart.

We played for a good, interesting hour, which included Brendon and Ryan agreeing to air-hump for 5 minutes straight, and with Joe running around the Wentz' patio, with no clothes on. "I am, so, so tired," Pete said, yawning. Ryan was curled up on the armchair, sound asleep. Joe, Andy and Brendon were in sleeping bags; which left me and Pete to the couch. Once we were the only two awake; Pete broke the silence. "I want stuff to always be like this," he declared in a whisper. I snorted, "even the young ones become irrelevant," I argued. "Huh. I don't care. Right now everything's just perfect." I was happy Pete could say this; but I'd be happier if I could say it myself. Pete took my nonexistent reply as an answer, and prodded on; "are you happy, 'Tricky?" he whispered, barely audible. I took a second to reply, and then smiled. "If I could stay like this forever, then yes," I said, and Pete began to interrupt, but I stopped him, "yes, I know I said even the young ones become irrelevant, but, you're right. This is perfect," I stopped and smiled at him again, "but, I think I love the mayhem more than the love." Pete remained silent until he conjured up a reply; "It'll be okay, 'Trick. You'll always have me and I'll always have you!" he said cheerfully. I chuckled, "oh, Pete, imperfect boys with their perfect ploys," I joked. "You're an absolute sunshine machine, I swear!" Pete grinned triumphantly at my statement, but then his face fell. "Don't you always say 'the lights of the city are too heavy for me'?" Pete asked, his low voice distant. I hesitated. "Peter Wentz. You're my best friend and I love you more than anyone, you just remember that." I reassured him. Pete shot me a small smile, satisfied. "The only problem," I thought, "I'm half doomed and you're semi sweet."


	5. Chapter 5

**-Lyrics are not mine, this chapter is Ruth's work.**

As much as I would have loved to sleep next to Pete on the couch, Pete, unfortunately, was a kicker in his sleep. I think it's all that soccer. I quietly made my way through the dark living room to the even darker kitchen. I sat on one of the stools, letting my arm and head rest on the cool marble counter, hoping sleep will soon take over me. Joe, Pete and Ryan's snores soon fell into patterns that almost lulled me to sleep. Almost. Bored, I just laid there thinking about anything, really. About why I couldn't fall asleep (probably all the soda Pete made me chug) or if anyone else noticed that Ryan was wearing Wonder Woman underwear? But there was only one thought I really focused on. What did Pete mean when he said everything was perfect the way it was?

I slipped back into the darkeness of the living room; and took my place back on the couch next to Pete. I moved my head so that my chin was resting on his arm and he was staring outward. I looked at the figure that currently occupied the couch and I could tell that Pete's mouth was slightly open. I had the sudden urge to close Pete's mouth; with my own. "Oh god, I'm a nervous wreck." I shamefully buried my head into my arms. "What the hell is wrong with me?" I asked myself, even though he thought I knew the answer. "Everything."  
I couldn't take his sweet breath on the nape of my neck any longer; it was too tempting. I slid back off the couch; narrowly avoided Joe's head, and retreated into the kitchen for a second time. I appreciated the cold marble on my face again; it was a hot night. Then, finally, my body let sleep welcome me.

The sound of an opening refrigerator door made me jump. I looked over my shoulder to see light from the fridge wash over Brendon. I stared at him as he took out a gallon of milk and two mugs. "Hey 'Trickster," he greeted me as he sat on the stool next to me. I looked across the hall and into the living room; over at the unoccupied sleeping bag, and then at Brendon, who was pouring milk into the second cup. "Weren't you just sleeping?" I asked him. He shook his head now putting the cups in the microwave. "I don't know why but I always wake up during the middle of the night. Sucks when I'm sleeping over but at least we're near the kitchen," he sat back down next to me, twirling in his stool. "Why couldn't you sleep?" he questioned; I sighed and looked out at the living room again. Pete was just twisting his lean body so that his face was implanted in his pillow. "I think Pete has restless leg syndrome when he sleeps," I smiled. As if to prove my point, one of Pete's legs suddenly kicked out of the couches ledge.

Brendon laughed as Pete rolled over again. The microwave beeped and Brendon left and instantly came back with two steaming cups of milk. He set one down in front of me. "So Pat-" he started, placing his mug to his lips. "-'Trick," I finished for him. "Patrick. I hate the name 'Pat.'"  
"Sorry." Brendon muttered as he sat down. We sat in silence as we both drank the warm milk. "So you really don't like Pete?" he asked- the question rushed out. The sudden question made me gag on my milk and choke a little. A hand was rubbing my back, my breathing starting to steady. Brendon was sporting a smirk which made my already red face turn into a bright ruby.

"Are you okay?" I heard the laughter in his voice. "Yeah," my throat burned and I stared out into the living room, the guys still sleeping soundly. Lucky bastards. "Back to my question. Do you like him?" the same smirk was still plastered on his face and the thought of wiping the smirk off of his face was a satisfying one. "No. Pete's just a friend," I could have barely heard myself but Brendon heard since he was already asking me another question. "Are you sure?"

"Why are you asking?" I snapped. Its one thing to lie during truth or dare but I really don't want to make lying to Brendon a habit. "It just seemed like it," he muttered, "and your defensiveness seems to say something else," I glared at him over my shoulder. I turned my whole body toward him for the added effect I needed. I spoke slowly hoping that he will stop asking me questions. "I only like Pete as a friend. That's all," I stared into his brown eyes while I spoke. "Okay, okay." he threw his hands up as if he was surrendering. "I was just making sure."

I drowned the last of my milk before he had a chance to ask me anymore questions. "Making sure of what?" I asked him, his last statement finally registering in my head. I could see the smile on his lips behind his mug. He downed his milk and then yawned. "That did the trick," he smiled, preparing to walk back to his sleeping bag. I followed; still waiting for the answer to my question. "Brendon," I called, barely audible, sitting down on the couch and watching him stand over his sleeping bag. "Oh, right," he finally replied. "I'm asking Pete out tomorrow," he flashed me a smile before getting into his sleeping bag. "Goodnight, 'Tricks," he whispered, but I could only mumble a reply back; because my anger and worry paralyzed me from head to toe.


	6. Chapter 6

**-Lyrics are not mine, this chapter is my work.**

I pulled the front door shut, and paused. I could hear Pete sleepily calling for me. A tear slid down my cheek, and I broke into a run, I had to get away, I couldn't bear it anymore. I was only a few yards from Pete's house when I lurched forward and hit the pavement. "What the fuck?!" I cried, and sat up immediately, holding my shin in agony. "Dude, you should watch where you're going! Look! I lost my fucking joint-" a figure who I realised was Joe, squinted and bent down. "Patrick! Fuck, I'm sorry dude, you okay?" I nodded slowly, rubbing my eyes, and asked; "how come you're out here? It's like six in the morning!"  
"Havin' smoke," Joe replied, "thought you gave that up?" I questioned him quietly. Joe hesitated and then cleared his throat. "Never mind me, what are you doing? Making a run from it? Sick of having Pete's dick so close to you yet you're not allowed tou-"  
"JOE!" I cried, absolutely mortified. My cheeks flushed the brightest red while slapping the younger male across the top of his head. Joe smirked gleefully. "Leave it out," I muttered. Joe dropped his smile and shot me a concerned look. "Tell me," he pressured; but his voice was soft and low. "B-brendon's asking Pete out," I choked out, tears falling onto my grazed knees. Joe sat down beside me and wrapped an arm around my shoulder. "Hey, hey, don't cry man," he soothed, tickling my cheek with his fingers. Then we just looked at each other; blue against blue. We stared hard, moving closer but not realizing, not until his nose brushed against mine, and then he furiously shoved his tongue into my mouth, and my fingers found his shirt, and they crept up his back, and he was moving to my neck, and I was so confused, and I couldn't take this all in and then-  
"That is disgusting," said an unfamiliar voice. An early morning jogger had stumbled across our embracement. "Well then fuck off, you old fucking hag," Joe said, propping himself up onto his knees. I scrambled upwards and blinked a couple of times. The sun was peeking through some grey clouds. Our elderly company looked disgraced; but said no more and tottered on.

Joe reached into his pocket and took out a cigarette and a lighter. He took a deep drag and closed his eyes. I stayed completely still; he seemed on edge, as if a sudden move would set him off, into a rage. My head was spinning. I kept stealing glances at him; but he kept his eyes shut. Then, he hastily placed his hand on mine. "Forget Wentz," he said: "he's a total cunt anyway, 'Trick. I've known him a lot longer than you," he smirked a bitter smirk, of what felt like resentment. I got a weird feeling in the pit of my stomach. What on earth did that mean? His kiss still lingered on my lips; and I had a million questions to ask him. I took a shot; "are you gay, Joe?" His reply was a continuation of muteness.

We walked, still in silence, to my house. The sun was fully risen now, and it burned our vision of the immediate distance. I knocked on the door, and had no fear of waking my parents. There was only one thing on my mind right now.  
No answer. All the curtains were pulled back; and the car was gone. I muttered a swear, and rummaged in my rucksack for my keys. "Coming in?" I asked Joe hesitantly, holding the door askew. He put out another cigarette and nodded keenly.

"You can tell me."  
"I know I can, but I'm not, Patrick. I'm not."  
"Then why the fuck did you kiss me?!" I shouted wearily. I was upset, and angry. My voice was breaking; "do you just want to mess me up even more, Joe?"  
"No Patrick! For fuck sake, I just want you to see-"  
"See what? Your fucking molars?"  
"I JUST WANTED YOU TO KNOW THAT THERE'S MORE GUYS THAN PETE, OKAY?" he roared. I shot back immediately, "oh, so you, an apparent straight guy, decides to grope me and shove his tongue down my throat?"  
"I'm sorry," he whispered. "No, no you're not," I retorted. "Not for that, 'Trick, for this," he said, and embraced me once more, his kisses soft, and loving, and I kissed him back, because I just couldn't help myself.


	7. Chapter 7

**-Lyrics aren't mine, this chapter is Ruth's work.**

It felt right, if not right, at least nice, to be attached to Joe's lips. I reluctantly pulled away when I needed some air. I took his hand and led him up the stairs to my room. I heard him chuckle once he entered. "It hasn't even been twenty minutes and I'm already up in your room," Joe smiled looking around my room. "You work fast, Stump," I couldn't help but laugh. "Shut up, Joe." he moved towards me, his fingers curling around my belt loops. "I know one way you can shut me up," he whispered before his lips found mine again. My fingers had found his unruly hair and pulled gently at the brown locks while his tongue twirled around mine.

Joe pulled away, smiling. "Haven't seen Wentz do this, have you?" he was headed for my neck before I pushed him away. "What?" he asked, his confusion clear across his face. "What is your problem?" I asked moving back so that his breath didn't hit me anymore. "What?" he repeated, his voice going up a notch. "What is your problem with Pete? Did something bad happen between you two or do you always make fun of him?" I questioned. It really was annoying me how Joe was attacking Pete. He still is our best friend. I saw Joe roll his eyes while he sat on my bed. "It's just.. Wentz doesn't get it," he spoke after he glared at nothing in particular in silence. "He's loaded and gets showered in gifts whenever he wants it," Joe's voice had an edge in its tone, something like envy. He shook his head slightly before he looked at me, his blue eyes shimmering in the golden sunlight that peeked through my window. "Pete's a great guy but he's just too blinded by his stupid gifts to see that there was someone much more valuable in front of him all along."  
A small cautious smile played on his lips and then my heart fluttered. That was the nicest thing anyone had ever said to me, ever and I sure as hell knew that I needed to hear it.

He patted the bed and I sat next to him. He rested his chin on my shoulder, his nose nuzzling my jaw line and his lips pressed tightly to my neck. "Someone was bound to steal you away," he murmured as he trailed kisses up my jawbone and to my lips. For what felt like two glorious hours, only to find out that it was only 30 minutes, I pulled away. I caught my breath while I stared up at Joe's eyes. Somehow, Joe and I were now lying on the bed, his thighs on either side of my hips. "I just have to ask," I started as I watched his chest heave for air. "Are you gay or not? I.. I just want to make sure," the latter came out shaky because I really did not want to ruin this.

To my surprise, Joe smiled. His fingers went up to my forehead and gently pushed a strand of hair away from my face. "No," he said, the smile still on his face. "Then why–"  
"Shut up, Patrick. You didn't let me finish." I stayed silent as I waited for the younger boy to finish. "I'm not gay. I have never liked guys in my life before, just.. you. I'm certain I won't like another guy, either," I was smiling so wide my cheeks were starting to hurt. He laughed as he placed a kiss on my cheek.

Loud knocks on the front door drifted up the stairs and into my room. "You gonna get that?" Joe started to move off of me but my hands on his hips kept him in place. "No. It's probably one of my parents who forgot their keys. I don't want them to know I'm here," I informed him while he played with the buttons on my shirt. The knockings became louder and then I heard my name being yelled. "Patrick!" A rock tapped my window and I lifted myself up sighing. "What do you want, Pete?" I asked loudly, squinting against the glare Pete's sunglasses were giving off. "Open the door!"

I rolled out of bed and went downstairs to let Pete in. "Why did you run off like that this morning?" Pete greeted me. "Why hello Pete, nice morning we're having?"  
"And why do you smell like cigarettes?" Pete ignored my sarcastic greeting and kept asking his own questions. "And have you seen Joe?" A different, but familiar, voice asked. I looked over Pete's shoulder to see Brendon, Ryan, and Andy. Ryan and Andy were barely awake as they leant on each other. "I'm right here," Joe appeared behind me, his hand slowly creeping up my back. Joe and I shared a smile while Pete and Brendon exchanged a confused glance. Widening the door, I let the guys in. We sat in the living room, Brendon staring intensely at Joe and me.

"Why are you guys here at eight in the morning?" Joe started. "To tell you guys something. Why are you here?" Brendon replied, studying us. Pete punched him in the leg and then smiled at us. "We wanted to tell you something important but you ran off before it even happened," Pete took off his sunglasses so he could see us clearly. "What is it?" Joe prodded while I stayed silent. Pete's grin grew wider. "I don't think you'll believe it," he gushed.  
Trust me. I didn't want to.


	8. Chapter 8

**-Lyrics are not mine, this chapter is my work.**

_I should never think.  
You'll learn to hate me.  
But still call me baby.  
Without me you got it all.  
So hold on._

Trains. Really just a motion blur. Made me feel sick. My head spun, my mouth dry; with words I cannot verbalize. "Patrick,"  
"Patrick,"  
"PATRICK,"  
"Please. Take me away from here," an unknown voice came from my mouth; it didn't sound like mine. He grabbed my wrist, and pulled me through the crowds, tripping and stumbling, and he pulled me outside, into the fresh midday air, into crowds of busy workers and such, boarding their trains. I tore away from Joe's gasp and pulled in some breaths. "Okay?" he asked. I took another breath, tickling my pink nose, then turned red eyes to him and nodded. "Wasn't I right," he started, "too blinded?"  
I cringed, but nodded. Pete was in there now, with Brendon in tow, decked out in designer sunglasses and half a dozen fucking Louis Vuitton bags, boarding a train to New York. "He'd want you to say goodbye," Joe murmured. "I know," I squeaked in reply, my eyes brimming, "we wasted o-our time in the b-back of a long, dark-" I couldn't continue; a sob erupted in the back of my throat and I fell into Joe's arms. "Breaking boys in two," I heard Joe whisper angrily, as I stained his shirt with my tears.

"P-pete?"  
"Do you wanna go outside? And talk?" he said, not disturbed by my spoiled eyes, red and blotchy, fogging up my glasses. "M-mhmm," I responded.  
"When I see you," I said, clearing my throat, "I really see you... upside down," I pulled my eyes into a puzzled expression, and when I looked up, Pete had that wide grin across his face. "Patrick Stump," Pete started, "I love you. I love you from the tip of your hat to the baby toes on your feet. "  
I hung my head, so the fresh tears could fall into the patch of grass left vacant as I sat with my legs crossed. A tanned finger brushed my cheek and cooed, "baby boy can't lift his headache head?"  
"THEN WHY ARE YOU FUCKING LEAVING?! LEAVING ME, YOUR 'BEST FRIEND', TO GO VENTURE OFF TO NEW YORK WITH HIM, CRAMMED WITH PLASTIC GIRLS AND EGOTISTIC GUYS, WHY PETE? " he attempted to interrupt but I continued on my rant; "CAUSE YOU'RE BLIND. YOU'RE SO FUCKING BLIND PETE. TOO MUCH GREEN TO FEEL BLUE, I DON'T NEED YOU! YOU WERE THE ONE THAT NEEDED ME! I'LL JUST WAIT 'TIL YOU COME CRAWLING BACK, WENTZ. G-good fucking riddance," on that note I got up, and strolled casually to the brick wall Joe was sitting on, a big smile on a smug face. "Your mother should'a swallowed you Wentz!" Joe shouted across the green, as Pete made his way back into Brendon, not looking too pleased. "I did it!" I cried, "I DID IT!"

"It's you I can't deny," I proudly whispered. It was morning, two, or three perhaps. My head was pressed against his stubbly cheek.

_Beneath the darkest, moonless sky, in the cover of the night, we steal softly, gentle kisses.  
Summer air is sweeping in, over you, and me, I could set, I could set, you free… _

I woke on an abrupt note; breaths short, fast, and loud. The picnic blanket beneath us was ruffled and littered with tufts of grass and discarded daisy chains. Joe was snoring loudly. My converse sat underneath the trampoline, where we last night lay staring at a starless sky. I knew what I had to do. Last night it drowned out every thought in my head, it was the only thing that my brain could understand; and now I understood. I searched my jeans for a pen, and found one, with a slight existence of ink. I grabbed a wrapper from one of the chocolate bars we devoured last night, and scribbled: "Hey dude. Had an amazing time last night, for real :)  
Gotta go get some study done though, I'll be done a few hours. I'll call you when I'm ready, don't call me cause I'll be in the library.  
Remember: it's you I can't deny now. I love you, Mr Trohman :) xxx"  
I smiled at the whole cute simplicity of it, and left it next to his hand. I sidled out the back gate and towards the early morning city.

* * *

**From:** patricks_  
**To: **  
_Click the "To" button to see your contact list |  
_  
**Subject:** URGENT

just do me a favour and read this. i'm so sorry pete. i shouldn't have said those things, you didn't deserve it, i just… i miss you, i missed you before you even went cause we're not pete and patrick anymore, i just feel like we're two strangers recently, and we need to fix this, come home pete, cause i'll be missing you like crazy, love, i'll miss you all the way, but my love for you won't let me make you stay… and it's true panda, i love you, i love you with all my heart, more than anything. i couldn't ask you to stay for me, oh how could i say it…

from patrick

i love you.


	9. Chapter 9

**-Lyrics are not mine, this is Ruth's work.**

7 days. A whole fucking week and that asshole still hasn't written back. I told him I want things back the way they were. Is that too much to ask? I sighed as I thought about the whole thing in my backyard. I was lying on the grass, staring up at the purple and pink sky; the sun setting. With Wentz, that is too much to ask.

"There you are," a familiar voice drifted to my ears. I cringed once I recognized it. My head lolled to the left as I saw my mother at the back door. "I thought you were upstairs wasting your time on that stupid computer of yours," I bit my lip so my smart remark couldn't slip. "Well, anyway that Jew boy is out front looking for you. What happened to that Wentz kid?"

"He's in New York. Has been for a week," I told her, looking back up to the sky, "And his name is Joe." I heard her scoff, her natural reply to anything related to me. "Whatever," The sky had gotten darker and more beautiful if that was even possible. It was quiet, the only noise made were by the crickets. I wonder if Pete and Brendon were enjoying themselves with the loud sirens, bright lights, and loud rude people and—who am I kidding, they're having the time of their lives.

I felt warm, soft lips press against my cheek. "Hey Stumpy," Joe greeted me. "Hey Joe," his fingers touched my cheeks lightly, wiping off tears that fell silently. "Wentz?" It didn't even sound like a question; more like a fact that we both already knew. He lay down with me, placing his head on my stomach. "Tricks," he sighed, his fingers playing with the hem of my shirt. "You're going to have to forget about him. He's thousands of miles away and hasn't written to you that I know of. What good is he to you now?" He paused waiting for my answer. I cleared my throat. "You're right. I should just forget about him," Joe suddenly appeared before me, a wide smile taking up his face. "That's my Patrick," he said. He pressed his lips against my forehead, kissing it. My fingers had reached his neck and I pulled him toward my lips for a long kiss.

He pulled away from me laughing, "What was that for? Not that I don't mind."

"For being there for me," I gave him a shorter version of the kiss, "For putting up with me," another kiss. "And for just being you," I didn't pull Joe in for a kiss this time, he did it on his own. "I need to be myself more often," Joe smiled before rising to his feet. "Come on," he offered his hands to me as I sat up. "Where are we going?"

"Carnival. Come on, let's go!" Joe pulled me up to my feet and led me into my house. "Where do you think you're going?" I heard my father call from the sitting room. Grabbing my hoodie off its hook, I replied "out," I let the door slam behind me.

"See you later babe," Joe muttered into my ear as we walked up to my front door. "Bye Joseph," he waved goodbye as I opened the door, slipped inside my house, and made my way to my room silently. I turned my computer on, out of habit for the past 7 days. As the low hum of the computer filled my room, I took the thin strip of four black and white photos Joe and I took in the photobooth from my pocket.

I smiled at the first one where Joe and I were smiling at the camera. The one under that photo had us in fighting stances, my mouth wide from laughing. The third photo had us with scrunched up faces, Joe growling at the camera. The last picture had us sharing a kiss, a quick one. I propped it up on my dresser and the loud ping from the computer made me jump. A new email in my inbox from Pete. I took a deep breath before reading it.

* * *

**From:**   
**To:** patricks_

_Click the "To" button to see your contact list |_

**Subject: **RE: URGENT

"They always bring up how you changed."

Hey. Sorry it took so long, I just had to think some stuff through. I know things aren't the same anymore, some nights it gets so bad I almost pick up the phone. I really do miss you Patrick. I miss us. They are reasons why I was acting… weird. I'll tell you when I see you. New York is great, but it can't compare to you.

Love you too.

P. Wentz.


	10. Chapter 10

**-Lyrics are not mine, this is my work.**

Impatience is not a virtue. Especially when impatience lands you outside a train station. On a bench. In the dead of night. His train wasn't pulling in until eight a.m, but if I went home I would go crazy. Out of my mind.  
"Patrick?"  
"Patrick? You here man?"  
My stomach lurched; it was Joe and Andy. I'd been gone all day, of course Joe was coming to search for me. He was the unsuspecting boyfriend. I carefully put my hood up and slumped into a sleeping position, peeping out at the two boys.  
"It's okay Joe, he's probably just having a bad day,"  
"I'm supposed to help him with that. He's just too obsessed with that prick," Joe replied, choking up.  
I cringed.  
"You don't mean that, c'mon, lighten up. He'll be home soon, Joe," Andy reassured.  
I faintly saw Andy reaching up on his flip flops to kiss Joe on the forehead. I furrowed my brow, when Joe wrapped his arms around Andy's tiny waist. I shook the thoughts out of my head and closed my eyes. It was pitch black now, and I knew I was on the verge of collapsing from exhaustion, so, I let my mind wander and fell asleep.

"You waited all night?" I could hear the smile in his voice before I saw it. I stirred awake, and then, there he stood. "PETE!" I threw myself into his tiny frame, holding him and never wanting to let go.  
"I love you, I love you so much," I said, muffled into his hoodie.  
"I know_._"

He took my hand and broke into a run. Down the little lane I remembered all too well, frolicking down the steps, until we stopped, plunged into the sand, and laughed. We lay there until we got our breath back, lying parallel to one another. The dark clouds could have been imperceptible: Pete's smile fabricated enough sunshine to light this town. "So," I started. "Hi,"  
Pete laughed, "hi, sweetheart. I missed you."  
"I love you," I told him again.  
"I know."

We lay there, on a rough, gritty, caramel blanket, listening to the waves crashing as night rolled in. For endless hours, Pete whispered to me, lines of beauty I apparently inspired. "In -" he took a breath, "between my sheets -" he slipped his hand under my shirt, "in between the rights and the wrongs."  
I quivered, tangling my hand in the back of Pete's hair. And in that moment, I swear we were infinite.  
Pete's hand continued moving up my back, his lips tracing my collarbone. I braced myself; for the moment I'd been waiting for for years, for too long.  
But then, he stood up. He motioned me to do the same. We stood facing eachother, static, and I took him in. I examined every detail. Above chips of dark chocolate irises were half-closed black eyelids. He discarded his hoodie, and hints of familiar tattoos peeked out around his partially bared chest and tanned arms.  
He turned his back to me, then peeked around to glance at me, then peeled off his shirt.

And then, he ran. Into a cascade of salty water, splashing and tantalizing. I didn't waste a second, and ran in after him. I trembled in the icy sea, but dragged myself along nonetheless. Pete was soaked from head to toe, and he had a bemused, happy expression on his face. "What do you want from me?" I questioned. Not in a harsh way, but in a pleading way. "Kisses," he replied, "on the necks of best friends." A smile curled the edge of his lips up.  
"Well then," I choked out with a laugh, "why not put me out of my misery now?" I took a few dreadful steps forward and waited. "Patience, Mr Stump, is a virtue," he smiled.  
He didn't take me by the heart, but by the hand, and placed it on the left side of his chest.  
"You," was all he said.  
Then he kissed me.  
He tasted like Starbucks and salty waves, and I tried to close my eyes but they couldn't refrain themselves from rolling back with ecstasy.  
An invisible sun set at the seeming edge of the sea and a hint of pink appeared in the grey sky.

"I love you," he said.  
"I know."


	11. Chapter 11

**-Lyrics are not mine, this is Ruth's work.**

The inside of my eyelids were red. The sun was directly hitting us, no shade to protect me or him. My head was resting on Pete's smooth wet chest. His calm heartbeat, sometimes racing when my hand touched his own, was thumping near my ear. I felt his fingers run through my wet matted hair. As much as I hated to move a centimeter from the most perfect position, I turned my head at an angle to see my hat mounted on his head.

His white toothy grin was still intact after the quick swim. I placed my head back on his chest, a smile spreading on my lips. "This is perfect," he sighed, the words rumbling in his chest. "Yeah," I agreed listening to his heartbeat; my own personal lullaby. I pressed my lips to a heated patch of skin on his chest, his heart pulsing underneath my lips. "'Tricks," he called lazily, his fingers moving up and down my back. "Yeah?"  
He moved up, propping himself with his elbows. I heard Pete's chuckle when I groaned at the disturbance. "Come on, we have to get going," he started to stand as I sat on the blanket, missing his warmth on my cheek. "Do we have to?" I knew there was a slight whine in my voice but it's too soon to go. "Yes, Patrick," he knelt down on both knees in front of me, sitting on the hot golden sand. He leaned forward and pressed his salted lips to mine.

It ended all too soon when he started to stand again. "I have sand for thighs," that beautiful smile took its place on his face again. He extended his hand out to me and I took it, slipping my fingers through his. We walked through the sand and down the street to my house. It felt impossible with my wet heavy clothes weighing me down but we eventually managed to get to the two story house.

We both stumbled into my room, his lips sewed onto my neck, his tongue rubbing over my skin. "I'd eat you up-- if I could..." Pete growled in my ear as I turned around in his arms. "I would let you but I'm salty and so are you."

Pete laughed as he pulled away. "Can I take a shower here?" he asked, throwing his shirt on the floor. "Of course," I grabbed the towel off of my chair; the one that we shared at may countless sleepovers. Pete shed his clothing, stripping down to his red boxers before heading into the bathroom. Hearing the water run, I started to strip from my wet clothes, bundled them up and went downstairs to put them in the washer. I found a dry T-shirt to wear while the washer clanked with full force.

I wasn't surprised to find myself smiling at the washer, or the stairs, or even at my dirty reflection in the broken mirror on the wall. This was too good to be true, having Pete here and never leaving my arms and it not being fucked up. I've waited for this ever since I've met him in the 6th grade. I'm not letting him go. The washer's '_ding_' brought me out of my thoughts telling me that it was done. I placed my clothes in the dryer and went upstairs to tell Pete to hurry up; the fish need water too. Once I reached the top of the stairs, the bathroom door was open and unoccupied.

The door to my room was wide open and a wet Pete with a towel hanging around his thin hips was standing over my dresser. The fact that my towel can be so easily removed from his waist almost gave me a heart attack but I let out a deep breath and walked toward him. "Hey," he looked over his shoulder as I greeted him; the corners of his mouth slightly moved upward, the only part that moved. This isn't a good sign. As I neared him; muttering to himself but the words were clear in my ears: "_does your husband know the way that the sunshine gleams on your wedding band?"_

Mine and Joe's photo booth picture was in his hands, his intrigued brown eyes only on the last picture of the black and white strip. I cleared my throat, making him place the strip face down on the dresser, and filled the silence. "So… you're all clean?" his award winning smile quickly occupied his wet face. "Clean as a whistle," he placed his hands on his hips, striking a pose similar to Superman's, but with less clothing. I couldn't help but laugh. Pete was a dork, but he's _my_ dork. Down stairs the bell rang and we both sighed at the interruption. "I'll get that..." I sighed, scratching my head which was still damp from the sea water.

Looking out from the peep hole in the door, my heart beat raced. I swallowed loudly, trying hard to dissolve the new formed lump in my throat before I opened the door. "Tricks! There you are! We've been looking for you," I smiled at the two boys who were standing on my front step. "Hey Joe. Hey Andy," the younger boy in front of me entered the house, placing his fingers on my chin and pressing his lips to mine. Andy turned his head away from us as I looked at him. Joe stiffened a couple of seconds later and pulled away from me. "What?" I asked as I saw his blue eyes narrowed in the direction of the stairs. I turned to see Pete on the steps, standing and staring at us. "Wentz."  
Joe growled. his hand finding and gripping mine tightly; protectively. "Joe," was all Pete said to him.  
The intensity between them was noticeable and Andy moved closer to see his old friend.  
"Wow," he said. "What a lovely reunion."


	12. Chapter 12

"Joe, c'mon, just, I can explain," I said, tiredly, as I put my hands on Joe's chest and tried to get him back out the front door. "DON'T FUCKING TOUCH ME," he roared, and his fist collided with my jaw. I lurched backwards with the force he hit me with, cradling a burst lip, "what the actual fuck. Get the fuck out," I said, my voice bland. His eyes filled with remorse and he opened his mouth, but Pete appeared from behind me, and started gnawing at Joe's face with fists, shouting at him, shoving him, "DIDN'T YOU FUCKING HEAR HIM? GET OUT, GET THE FUCK OUT!" Joe tumbled out the door onto the lawn, and Pete spat on his face. My heart tingled. "Er, bye, guys," Andy muttered, embarrassed, scurrying out after Pete and shutting the door behind him.

Pete was dabbing my mouth with a damp cloth, as he sat with his legs crossed on top of me. "Your mom's gonna freak," he sniggered. I groaned, "stop man, I know!" He smiled his smile and pecked me, not on the lips or on a cheek, kind of in between. "He's in the gutter, waving his wand. Past his prime. I'm just fine," Pete murmured as his lips traced my neck. I thought of Brendon. "Pete," I started, "what about Brendon?" He stopped his imprinting on my jawline, and turned brown eyes to me. "He's still in our apartment. I told him I was coming to see mom and dad."  
I felt the guilt in his voice. "Do you love him?" I asked, outright. He shook his head. I could feel the side of my mouth curl up, but then he said, "Patrick, you're not the first, or the last. But you're possibly the prettiest." He smirked.  
My brain came to a halt. "What," I said. Not a question, just a what. "There have been other guys?"  
"Well," he snorted, "yeah. And girls."  
Girls? What was this guy doing?  
I nudged him off my lap and gave him a perplexed look. "What," this time it was a question, "are you even doing?" my voice was getting thicker and higher as each word came out. He smiled, "you're not gonna be the only guy, ever, Patrick," he said. "What?" I replied, for the third time. "Y-yes I am!!"  
"Isn't that for me to decide, Patrick?" he replied sternly, no joke involved. "No!!" I said incredulously, "I love you! You love me!!"  
"They scream when they look at me," he shot back, "I'm a star."  
"Why did I even bother?! WHY DID I. GIVE ME A REASON. WHY I BOTHERED."  
"Cause you love me?"  
"AND YOU SAID YOU LOVED ME!"  
"Yes Patrick, I love you. Every ounce of you. But how can I love you that way, how can YOU even love me that way, when all I've gotten," he breathed dangerously close to my ear, "is one kiss?"

I threw him backwards onto the bed, crushing him, kissing him, wanting him, needing him. I hated him for scaring me like that, but I couldn't resist: every atom of me was his, and it always would be. "I fucking love you Patrick," he said roughly, tearing off his shirt, "but I'm afraid I'm going to have to destroy you." I choked on our kiss and laughed. He stroked my midriff, sending a shiver down my spine. Adrenaline rushed through my veins, as I responded to Pete's advances. We were intertwined in the sheets, his legs draped around my back. Hands shook, breathing was heavy, crotches sweaty- his jeans were far too tight. I finally pulled him out of them. His warm, soft body, the beautiful tattoos, the strong arms wrapped around me. I didn't know what to do next, so I just stopped and breathed, my mouth slightly agape, and looked at him. He slipped tanned hands down my shorts and I could feel his erection rigid against my thigh. I thought I was gonna explode with suspense but he finally crawled from underneath me and took off his boxers. My heart was in my throat; I was completely lost for what to do again, and the sight of his cock gave me a mix of heartburn and nausea. "C'mere," he whispered, beckoning me to lie on my stomach. "Shove your arse in the air," he instructed, and I would've laughed but I was completely petrified. I did as he said, shaking, my eyes tearing across the room. "Pete, I-I dunno if I'm r-ready?" I stuttered, as he rummaged in my drawers, he shushed me, and I tried to distract myself, thinking of something to say - "so, uh, what-whatcha looking for there?"  
"Got it," he muttered, and I turned my neck to see him squeezing some lotion into his palms. My eyes widened and I would have happily jerked up my shorts and scampered from the room, but he had me pinned down, sitting with his legs on either side of mine, his bare ass resting on my calves. The noise the lotion made as he rubbed it carelessly into his hands made me squint and feel another wave of nausea. I begged for there to be a knock on the door, or for the phone to ring, or anything to stop this. I was just about to interrupt him again, when his hips collided with my ass; sending a wave of pain and excitement throughout my body. "Ohhh, Patrick, you feel so good," Pete murmured, sending echoed moans around my room. I wished I could return the compliment, but my whole body was clenched with pain. I'd just let him finish up here, and then it would never happen again, he could do anything to me, except _this_. But then, the pain ceased, _slightly,_ and I felt a moan unwillingly escape from my rosy lips. I could hear Pete's smile when he chuckled. He stroked the dimples on my back as his hips slowly rocked against mine as he rode out his orgasm, flailing wildly and casting groans that hit my ear in the form of a beautiful, beautiful song. He gently pulled himself out, and turned me back over onto my back. He looked down at me with a loving, gentle smile and wiped a beam of sweat from my forehead. He pecked my hot neck once, then laced our fingers together and laid down beside me. "Your train is tomorrow," I faintly said, panting, "tickets booked n'all y'know. You have to be getting back to Brendon anyway."  
Pete's expression changed and he crumpled up his beautiful features in pain. "I can't go, Lunchbox… I want to stay here, with you. I love you." His words set my heart alight; but I knew he had to go. Joe was here, Brendon was in NY, we just couldn't work out. Everywhere, there was something, or someone stopping us. My eyes glazed over, and his puffed up, he found my lips, so warm and soft, and I never wanted him to pull away, breathing was unimportant. "I lo-"  
He gingerly pressed a finger to my open lips. "Keep quiet. Nothing comes as easy as you. Can I lay in your bed all day?" My eyes keeled over, and I was left with the heart wrenching realization that he wasn't mine to keep.

_My ship went down__  
In a sea of sounds  
When I woke up alone  
A handful of moments  
A tongue like a nightmare  
That cut like a blade  
In a city of fools  
I was careful and cool  
But they tore me apart  
Like a hurricane_


End file.
